I was eight years old and walking home from school when a man approached me. He said nothing as he pushed me down onto the grass, knocking the breath out me. Before I knew it he had taken my shoes, pants and underwear off. He held me by my ankles, the more I tried to break free, the tighter his grip became. I do not remember what he did to me, only that when it was over, he kicked me hard in the balls, and laughed as he walked away. I just laid there on my back holding my balls and crying. I remember that the grass was wet and cold, and that he had smelled really bad. I was bleeding from my butt and penis, and I hurt. I remember feeling embarrassed that my pants were off. I found my shoes and pants, and tried to dress, it hurt to stand up. I do not remember the rest of the walk home, just that I hurt really bad, and I could not stop bleeding. I do remember coming home, and telling my mother I wanted to take a bath, she was in the kitchen doing wash. I just wanted his smell off me. I never told my mom what happened to me, and threw my bloody underwear away. Kept throwing them away for days afterwards. I would wake up at night screaming, and started to pee the bed. All this did was to piss off my parents. I started sleep walking, and one night my father found me half way down the block, so they would locked me in my room at night. To this day I have wondered how come they never asked me or pressed to see what was wrong. Why the nightmares, why I walked funny that night, and the days the followed. Why I did not want to walk to school the next day. I became very disruptive in class after this, always had to be sent out to the hallway to sit . My mother never asking why, just yelling at me for getting into trouble.

My sister was the perfect daughter. She played all the sports, did well in school. My father told me once that my sister should have been the boy and I should have been the girl. That has never left me.

When I got into high school, my mother asked all my male friends if I was gay. After that, they stopped coming over to my house. I was mortified by her asking such a thing. Her brother was gay, and he would come over with his boy friends. They would always tell me how cute I was, and rub me on the head or back. One day, one of his friends while sitting on the couch with me, even started to rub me between my legs. I told my mother, but she refused to believe me. Then while walking home from school, a guy in a purple gremlin started yelling “I like the way you shake your ass.” I remember looking around to see who it was, and he was the only one around. I remember thinking he can’t be talking to me. He drove up close to the sidewalk, opened his car door and I could see that he was naked. He said “This is for you” and threw his semen at me. I started to run, and he followed. All the way home he remained behind me. I told my mother and father, but they refused to believe me. The next day he was there again. I told the school. They did not believe me. This went on for weeks. Sometimes he would drive on the side walk after me. Then one day he chased me on foot and almost got me at my back door. I pissed my pants as I unlocked the door. I called the police. When my parents came home they found two policemen waiting for them. This time they believed me. The police setup a trap, used me as bait. It took a few days to get him, but they did. When they got him he was naked. After a couple of days a detective came over to the house and told me that he had been watching me for months. Knew everyone’ daily schedule. He knew right when to get me. My mother laughed. She thought it was funny. I remember the look on the detective’s face, one of shock. That same detective called me a few weeks later to say that the guy will never bother me again, he went to jail for a long time. Come to find out, he had done this to many other boys in a different town. A few weeks went by, and I got a letter in the mail. All it said was “ I am watching you” typed out on white paper. I showed it to my mother, and she made it sound like it is no big deal, just some one playing a joke. The next week I got another one. My sister opened it, and just laughed and laughed. I pissed my pants when I read it, she just thought that was so funny. I got four more of those letters before they stopped. All of this got a round school. One day in gym class, in the shower’s a bunch of guys assaulted me. One boy held me, while another tried to jerk me off, saying I liked it, all fags do he said. Then he squeezed my balls as hard as he could, and then they pushed me in my locker and locked me in it. The gym teacher later found me, heard me pounding on the locker. He just gave me a disgusted look and told me to get to class. Nice guy he was. The bastard. When I got home that day, like a fool I told my parents. My father called me a sissy and asked what I did to the other guys, if I looked at them wrong. I informed them that I was not going back to school, and I dropped out in the middle of my sophomore year.

All of this left me with sore balls and not knowing if I was gay or not. Since then all the male friends I had, all ending up wanting sex from me. Sometimes I would let them. I always felt weird afterwards. I knew, I was not gay. I met a girl and we married. She was my first and only girl I have had sex with. I started having real problems with my balls. They hurt really bad. I went to many doctors, who had no answer’s for me. I finally found a real good doctor who cared. After lots of shit, I was able father two sons. But my luck would not hold. I had 13 surgeries and ended up losing both of my balls when I was 38. I now get my testosterone through a needle in the ass once a week. It has been six years now that I have been castrated. I still have medical problems from all the surgery, and chronic pain. I will never be the same. I have been addicted to pain killers, and still am I guess. I cannot live without them. I still struggle with my sexual identity and watching gay porn. I hate myself for that. I do not have any close male friends. Always afraid if I do, it will lead to sex. I do not trust anyone, and the nightmares and flash backs still come. This is what that monster did to me. I am not the man I should have been. That was stolen from me when I was 8. Choices were made for me, not by me. I am not who I should be. Every time I see myself naked in the mirror I am reminded of it, every time I inject myself, I am reminded of it. The memory will never fade. I am damaged. Every night the nightmares come. When I found this site I was shocked. I read the posts, and saw so much of me in them. It scared me at first. I never knew there were so many others like me, who thought the same thoughts, and struggled with the same stuff. Took me forever to register and even longer to post I was just too scared. Since finding this site, I have started to see a therapist, and have started the journey of healing, of taking back my life, what’s left of it. It is not easy, and I know you all know that. I just wanted you all to know, that this site has made a difference in my life. Sorry for such a long post. I just needed to do it.

I am really sorry for all you went through. It is really sad. I read your story and the stories of other guys here, and I can't help but think how many other boys and girls are, at this very moment, suffering as we did. And I just wish people like us, who know this kind of pain, could do something to stop the suffering of children and their sexual victimization. I am sure that there are things we can do, like taking care of our own children (and the children of those around us) and educating them to be adults that will protect other children.

I am happy to hear that you have started therapy and that you are on the road to recovery. My prayers are with you.

Thank you for posting. Your past has been very painful. I am so glad that you've come here and that you've begun your journey of healing. This site is a great resource - an oasis of understanding. The folks here don't judge or minimize your feelings or expereinces. I wish you the best as you recover and try to forge your new life

Markw,I am shaking after reading your story. I can't believe your parents were so unbelievably unaware, insensitive and negligent. I am so sorry you weren't better looked after Mark. Simply, you were brutally assaulted and your family did not protect you. I am appalled. But on a more positive note. You have found this website. That's a good thing. You have your own family and two sons. That's awesome. And let me reassure you, there are lots of guys out there who would like to be your friend, and trust me, they aren't interested in having sex with you. Keep sharing. Keep believing. Peace, Andrew

It was very brave of you to post your story here. Please know that you will not be judged by anything that you say at this site. I found that out almost a year ago when I found MaleSurvivor. The guys here are great! The Moderators are great! I have never felt judged here, nor made to feel guilty or ashamed. You won't either! You will also make friends here. I have. If you ever need to vent or just chat, feel free to send me a PM.

What a super kid you were, what a super man you are.As has already been said, it's impossible to believe that there are people like that in our world...the perps, the parents, the teachers...unbelieveable.But what a kid you were...what guts to keep on. Wouldn't it have been nice to just chuck your parents and go check out some new ones?Ya, to not be believed...another famous phrase in our vocabulary..."they didn't believe me." What's worse is that you had to endure laughter...incredible...there's a special place for people like that.Welcome, Mark, we believe you here. We won't laugh. We will try to encourage you and listen to what you have to say.

Peace, courage and strength

David

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"No soul is desolate as long as there is a human being for whom it can feel trust and reverence."George Eliot

I am so sorry for what happened to you. We're just so aware of the reality of abuse, it is incomprehensable to me that a parent would not believe their boy, or worse, laugh it off. What is wrong with these people? I just want to shake them. And you can't tell me that an eight-year-old is so good at hiding the blood and the pain that mom and dad can't see that something is wrong. And this "Augh! My kid's gay!" thing. I had to check your post again, and you did say you were eight. Grrrrr.

This is exactly what I've been talking about. There was a fork in the road. You were raped. That perp [pause to calm down anger...] But your parents had a choice right there that could have changed your life. All of our parents, even if they weren't the SA perps, had a choice that could have made all this almost go away.

If you can't tell, I feel for you man. I am pained at the life road you were sent down. I am happy that you've met up with us. The life roads meet up again here. Even though we lost all these years, we can begin again. I am so, so sorry you had to find this place, but I'm glad you are starting to heal. Heal with us.

_________________________
ForeverFighting

"This search for the truth--it's not for the faint of heart."--Goren on 'Law & Order: CI'"The former things will not be called to mind, neither will they come up into the heart."--Isaiah 65:17

Mark - like yourself and so many others, I am so glad this site is here.

I am glad that you are finding strength and support here. Your story is quite horrendous and it makes me wonder just how many evil people are out there that just don't care a damn about kids.

Childhood should be a sanctuary of positive memories that make you smile in later life. It shouldn't be a living hell that we never forget.

Just remember Roses like manure - the amount of shit that people here have had to put up with must make this site one massive Rose garden.

Best wishes ...Rik

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*Never look down on anybody unless you're helping them up.*I was seeking a way of expressing my anger - I found hope!*There are many battles before the war is won! It can be won!

Mark, thank you for having the courage to post your story. You went through hell and it gives me strength to know that despite this, you have prevailed in many ways - such as being a dad.

Your story was the first I read since registering. I was also abused, in my case by my older brother, and I really need to find some help because it is f*cking up my life. Being here is my first step. My story is similar to the extent that the abusive events somehow made it more likely that further difficulties would come to me. I was in 5th grade and we had just moved to another state, and I was lost and lonely with no friends when my brother (the 'man of the family') invited me to his bedroom and had me masturbate him. I knew about masterbation, and had even jerked off with a friend when I was in 3rd grade, but this was something new, doing it TO someone. He came on my hand and laughed, and I thought it was gross and felt ashamed and embarassed. I returned to my bedroom and some time later - some days or weeks later - my brother returned and showed me how to make my armpit like a pussy, so he could fuck it. I don't recall how that even worked out, but it was not long before he asked me to suck his penis and he sucked mine. It was both a turn on, and disgusting. This went on for a period of 2-3 years. All the while, this brother was the older of the 2 kids at home, and was routinely preferred by my macho just-recovered alcoholic Dad, who did not like me. While they went out, I stayed at home and learned to knit. I started getting in trouble at school and of course incurred the wrath of my father, would would beat me with a hairbrush on my ass. I became a momma's boy at home, but she was an untrustworthy two-faced person too, so I really had no adult I could trust. The abuse ended around 7th or 8th grade - and 2 interstate moves and several schools later - when my brother finally got a girlfriend. But by then I was well-acquainted with what it was to be used by someone, and how allowing someone to get their way provided me with a kind of protection or cover in the chaotic and sick family environment I was raised in. Over time, I found myself unable to be in sports because the aggression amongst males scared me; and somehow I developed into a kind of 'safe' guy that (in my opinion) is devoid of male energy. I am afraid of the kind of male aggression I perceive in others and in myself. So I spent my years being friends with women (but actually wanting to be in their pants, but not having the courage to act because I had so many doubts), and so on. I did become a dad, which I am forever grateful for (despite the fact that the kids can be like little monsters! but I actually was corraled into this by my wife, who was desperate. Ditto getting married: I was kind of forced into it by my then-girlfriend. So anyway, my aftermath is that I see myself as not really a real man...because I never could get it together to ask girls to dance (or to be on a date even); could not ask my wife to marry me (because I just could not do it); could not make a decision to try for kids (had to be kind of cajoled into it); and never really makes decisive moves. I seem alwayys to be in a kind of suspended animation in the matters of life. And it is driving me crazy and I connect it to these past sexual exploits, which hurt me deeply.

I'd love to hear from anyone for whom any of what i described sounds familiar. I just need to start having a dialogue.

this brother was the older of the 2 kids at home, and was routinely preferred by my macho just-recovered alcoholic Dad, who did not like me.

If you want to talk to someone who this sounds familiar to, I'm the guy. My dad got along great with my sister. My mom wore the pants in our family. And I sat home and knitted while dad and sis went and played basketball. I'm not kidding or making this up. My uncle was the perv who used me and eventually got married, denying that he did anything to me. And it's taken me until the last few years to feel like it's OK for me to be a man.

Your brother was a selfish guy who used you. They mess with our heads and then leave us to sort out the rubble for the rest of our lives. Our families shape us, and it's telling our stories that lets us revert back into the form we were meant to be.

I'm glad you found this place and had the courage to share your past with us. Take care.

_________________________
ForeverFighting

"This search for the truth--it's not for the faint of heart."--Goren on 'Law & Order: CI'"The former things will not be called to mind, neither will they come up into the heart."--Isaiah 65:17

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